


you draw me in I think i love the feeling (these feelings that i feel within almost every song)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Series: Queen Prompts [78]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Dumb Brian May, Early Queen (Band), Gen, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Ridge Farm, Sad Brian May, Song writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Roger writes songs hoping Brian catches the hint. Brian doesn't.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Series: Queen Prompts [78]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1265597
Comments: 17
Kudos: 90





	you draw me in I think i love the feeling (these feelings that i feel within almost every song)

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt fill.

Roger stares at the ever-growing piles of paper on his desk. Most of them are songs for the album, but a few, lovingly pressed into a binder that aren’t for the public. Not yet.

He doesn’t care what people think about him, but he doesn’t want to be a fool on purpose. Roger pulls the latest song out and stares at the words.

_Hair like a night sky and eyes so kind._

His songwriting has suffered in place of being glaringly obvious. Roger taps his pencil on the table and reads through the song. It reads like something he would write when he was a teenager and not a twenty-something up-and-coming Rockstar.

To be fair, he hadn’t assumed he wanted to be a one-person man at this point in his life either.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

“Yeah?”

“Roger, dear,” Freddie pushes open the door, “dinner is ready, or almost. Once Brian and John finish the great argument of paper plates or ‘proper’ plates.”

Roger snorts, “who is winning?”

“John will,” Freddie shrugs, “he’ll just drop the food onto the paper plates.”

“Brian won’t like it,” Roger replies, hiding the song back in the binder.

“Does he ever?” Freddie drops onto his bed.

The springs squeak in warning. Roger winces and plans to use his next royalty check to buy a new one, but he wants to make sure the bed is something Brian would like. Brian loves soft mattresses despite it always making his backache in the morning. Roger _always_ must rub his back to help with the knots.

Freddie snaps his fingers, “Roger. Earth to Roger.”

Roger shakes his head and clears his throat, “sorry. I was thinking about a bed replacement.”

“Uh-huh. Right, you have _that_ look on your face.”

“What look? This is my face; I don’t have a look.”

Freddie sits up and rests his hand on his chin, “you have a look. It’s the I’m planning on ten children with our guitarist.”

Roger wrinkles his nose and places his arm over the binder.

“I’m not planning on ten children,” Freddie raises an eyebrow.

“ _If_ it were possible, it would be three…” Roger mumbles and then looks up, “and it doesn’t _have_ to be Brian.”

Freddie chuckles and pushes himself up from the bed and hugs Roger. He struggles against him, but Freddie is surprisingly strong, and Roger loves hugs. After a moment he just slumps into Freddie’s embrace. Once he settles Freddie manages to pull the paper he was just looking at from the binder. Roger scowls at him, but he knows Freddie is going to do what he wants.

“Oh dear,” Freddie tsks, “if he doesn’t get it after this… but we just need to leave your name on it.”

“Fred! Don’t!”

“Why not blondie?”

Roger tosses his hair and looks towards the door, “because he already knows… and he hasn’t figured out how to let me down gently!”

Roger stands up and drops onto the bed face down into the pillow. Freddie follows him and places his hand over his shoulder.

“Has he managed to reject that bird from last month yet?”

He laughs, “no… he wrote her a soliloquy of why they couldn’t be together, and then scrapped it.”

Freddie chuckles, and squeezes his shoulder, “you know he loves you. More than his stars.”

“He doesn’t Fred! I’ve been so obvious, everything short of leaving a written confession.”

Roger rolls over and stares at Fred who is looking at him with soft eyes. He sits up with a huff and plays with the ends of his hair before crawling to the edge of the bed.

“You said dinner was done?”

“As near as can be,” Freddie holds out his hand.

He takes it as is then dragged out of his room. Roger tries to dig his heels into the ground, just to make it difficult. Freddie relents and sends him a wink. It makes him tilt his head, and then he sees that Freddie is still holding his song.

“Freddie! Don’t you dare!”

“A test,” Freddie says, “if Brian looks like a kicked puppy then we know he thinks you love someone else… if he looks awkward, he is trying to reject you.”

Roger shakes his head, “it’s Brian. He always looks awkward.”

“Poor lad hasn’t grown into his curls.”

They enter the kitchen. Brian has his arms crossed and is pouting as he glares at the paper plates. John is chewing on his cheese toast happily – and Roger doesn’t know how well cheese toast goes with pasta, but he isn’t going to question it – and looking smug.

“Dinner is getting cold,” John says in greeting.

Roger looks at Brian who is glancing at where he and Freddie are holding hands. He sucks on his bottom lip and Brian looks away. He pulls his hand away from Freddie and drops into his spot next to Brian. He presses against his shoulder and Brian sends him a tiny smile.

“We were discussing Roger’s songs.”

John shrugs but Brian perks up.

“New songs?”

“Nothing special, probably not worth putting on the album.”

Freddie rolls his eyes and shakes the paper, “they’re good. With some tweaking…”

“They’re _private_ Fred,” Roger hisses, sparing a glance to Brian.

Brian looks between them, wide hazel eyes and nervous air about him. Roger clears his throat and shakes his head at Freddie.

Freddie triumphantly places the paper in Brian’s outreached hand. Roger swallows and wonders how shameful it would be for him to crawl back into his mother’s home. John looks up, arching a brow at him and then glancing at Brian.

Roger shakes his head harder.

Brian reads the paper and Roger turns to gauge his reaction, first drawn to the shaking hands. He has not seen Brian’s hands shake since he was in the hospital. Roger follows the long lines of his wrist up to his face, where his emotion is blank. Roger swallows and brings up his hand to bite at his nails. They are already broken from his recent stint with the guitar, but he worries them down further.

“Ah,” Brian says quietly.

Roger stills.

“Rog, you could have told us you were with Freddie. I wouldn’t care.”

Roger’s jaw drops open. He shares a look with Freddie who has paled.

“Actually, I’m not very hungry,” Brian pushes away from the table, “sorry I made you waste paper on me.”

Brian doesn’t run, more like an awkward quick shuffle, but quickly leaves the room. Roger watches the curls vanish. Roger looks back at the paper, which is quickly soaking up the sauce.

“Freddie!” John hisses, “what were you thinking?”

“What? It’s clearing about Brian!”

John picks up the saucy paper and reads through the lines on this paper. He shakes his head.

“It’s Brian, but if you’re Brian you’re not going to see how it’s him. And dark hair doesn’t exclude Freddie.”

Roger shakes his head, “Freddie!”

“I’m sorry, Rog, I would have thought he’d see it. You even mentioned stars!”

“Your last name is a planet,” John shrugs, dropping the paper back onto the sauce.

Freddie shakes his head, “Roger doesn’t love _me.”_

“Well, I do,” Roger says distractedly, “but not like I love Brian.”

Roger slumps onto the table with a quiet _thud,_ “I’ll never love anyone like Brian again, and now he thinks I want to shag my best mate!”

John hums, “you’re best mates with him too.”

Roger groans, “not helping John.”

“Why can’t you just spell it out? Say it plainly, Brian can’t pick it apart then.”

“And have him reject me outright?”

John reaches out and pinches the skin on the back of his hand.

“Ow!”

“Because someone who is going to reject you doesn’t run away when thinking you’re in love with someone else.”

Roger looks up at John and stares. He feels his brain slowly connects the dots.

“Just write a song that says, Brian, I fancy you and want to have all of your children,” John says and then bites into his meal again.

“It’d be the other way around,” Freddie replies.

Roger lifts his head, mouth parted.

“It was before I knew how irreversibly in love you were with him, and it was Mary’s idea _and_ we didn’t get far before we both passed out.”

He has a lot of questions but decides to let it rest. Freddie doesn’t have any feelings towards Brian now, beyond the platonic. Roger shakes his head and decides that it is not worth pursuing now.

Roger stares at his food, which looks unappetizing, and his stomach twists as he thinks about how quickly Brian ran off. Freddie sits down and slides his food around before shoving it into his mouth. He takes a bite, but it feels like ash in his mouth. The pasta is gummy and the sauces feel like a thicker water.

“I’m not hungry either. Save Bri and me a plate?”

John nods, waving his hand and swiping his napkin over his face, “put him out of his misery Rog, which will put us all out of our misery.”

Roger huffs and slides away from the table, before kicking his chair back in place and hurrying out of the kitchen. He turns around and sees Freddie send him a thumbs up.

Brian’s door is shut, and Roger leans against it. There is not any sound coming from it – which isn’t surprising – and he backs away before moving back to his room. He grabs a new piece of sheet music. He probably should use notebook paper for this, he is almost out and taps his uncapped pen against it leaving a smattering of dots.

There is some romance in mystery and he wants to be romantic, but he also knows that right now bluntness is the best route he can take. After a second, he scribbles a message and hurries back to Brian’s door.

He knocks four times before pausing for the fifth, and then he slides the paper underneath before leaning away. Roger knows he cannot sit outside Brian’s door all night, but he doesn’t want Brian to think that he is unreachable.

“Bri, I’ll be in my room,” he says quietly.

Brian has heard him; Roger has to trust that, so he goes back to his room. Roger grabs the drumsticks on his nightstand and taps out a rhythm against his wall. There are some dents in his wall where he has done this before. He knows it is annoying, he would be annoyed regardless of how much he loves drumming, but something is relaxing in the predictable rhythms.

He eventually sets the sticks to the side and lays down, squeezing a pillow between his legs and holding onto the duvet. Roger rolls his face into the pillow by the head, and when it gets hard to breathe, he moves it and sees a figure by his door.

Brian is standing there, with the paper between his fingers.

“Ah your door was closed,” Brian shuffles, “but you said… and I thought.”

Roger swipes his hands over his eyes, “yeah. Bri, yeah sorry. I was just.”

He gestures vaguely.

Brian bobs his head rapidly before shuffling a little further into the room. Roger keeps staring at the paper. It is pristine, but a little creased and where Brian has it clenched between his fingers.

“You wrote this?” Brian asks.

“I meant it,” Roger answers immediately.

Brian tilts his head; Roger lets out a breath because that’s Brian’s “difficult equation” face and not the “I don’t believe you face.” He watches Brian look down at the paper and then to the door and then back at Roger.

“But I thought… Freddie?”

“No,” Roger shakes his head, “only you. Always you.”

Brian rocks back on his heels, “you’re good at hiding it.”

Roger barks out a laugh, “Bri, I thought I was being obvious, all those songs?”

“I didn’t think they could be about me,” Brian shrugs.

“They were. I meant every word about you,” Roger stands up and hold out his hands.

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“There won’t be one, Bri, trust me when I say I love you.”

Roger holds out a hand. Brian’s brows furrowed and he looks back down at the paper. He carefully sets it down on the desk, but it slides off onto the floor. Brian bends down and picks it back up, this time setting it on top of a notebook. He flexes his fingers but otherwise keeps his hands extended.

Brian walks towards him, taking his hand first. Roger gently pulls him closer. Brian doesn’t fight him, and he wraps around him in an embrace. There is a tiny tremble in Brian’s frame.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Roger whispers.

“Rog, doing this… it’s a lot to put on the line.”

“I know, B.”

“I don’t want to go all-in, not at first,” Brian rests his cheek on top of Roger’s head.

“Okay, we’ll go slow. Clearly, I’m patient.”

Brian huffs, “not the word I’d pick.”

“Well the only other words would be insulting to you,” Roger replies.

That earns him a stronger chuckle.

“Don’t worry Bri.”

“I will,” Brian replies honestly, “but I trust you, Rog. You made it very clear.”

“Finally.”

Roger leans back, knocking Brian’s head from his and leaning up just enough to place a tiny kiss on his cheek before stepping back, but keeping hold of Brian’s hand.

“You want to lay with me before we sneak down to finish dinner?”

Brian glances towards the door with a tiny flush on his face. He bites his bottom lip before nodding.

“I’d like that.”

“I would too.”

Roger allows Brian to situate himself before climbing in right after him. He very carefully does not think about the words on full display on his desk.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, leave your thoughts and comments below or come talk to me on Tumblr.


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